OUTTAKE, Bee, Like Sting  BPOV of Chapter One
by SecretLife40
Summary: Bella's POV.  She encounters Edward at a party and they spend the summer together, this is what happens when the meet again when Bella starts H.S. and neither are who they thought they were. OOC, AH, sex, drugs B&E.


If you haven't read the first chapter from _Bee, Like Sting_, you don't have to for this outtake, but I would suggest it, this outtake gives some additional back story to characters and what not.

Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer

Poor grammar, spelling and verb tense errors are all me.

This story contains swears, sex and drug use, don't read if this isn't your thing.

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BLS Chapter One outtake - BPOV

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"Bella, how long before this takes hold?" Rosalie asks.

"Just relax, Rose, it'll happen."

"What about Emmett?"

"What about him?"

"Is he going to know I'm on this? I mean, with football and all, he can't do anything."

"If you didn't think you wanted to do it, why'd you take it?" She begged me to get her a hit. I'm not a dealer and now she's questioning what she wanted to do, I have to give her an out.

"Rose, this isn't your thing, you don't have to commit to it, just push your finger down your throat; there's no point doing this if you're gonna be all freaked out over it."

"I don't know what to do, should I throw it up?"

I should have been smart enough not to ask Rose to do this with me, all I want is for my E to kick in and leave Emmett to fend for Rose. "Yes, Rose, I think you should throw it up," I reply, tipping my head back to the ceiling and starting to feel the slight tinges of the edges getting fuzzy.

"Where'd you get the pills?" she asks.

"From a good guy," is all I answer. I can't tell Rose that Rachel's and Rebecca's little brother is my dealer, those girls are like the world's daddy's little girls, they can and do no wrong.

Jacob is the perfect dealer, as the idea of Jake and illegal activity cannot occur on any two planes of existence, with his prepossessing good looks, and athleticism, he stands straight and looks you in the eyes; all the things parents look for when you bring a boy home. It's his pockets that hold the tickets to ride. And holy shit, every time I partake with him I have the best times and I swear, he always tries to save me the best of stuff.

The one time we had taken mushrooms, I was all pissy they weren't doing anything, blaming him like he could control it. Then like an hour or so after we had chewed them up and swallowed them we were in a Walgreens looking at the holiday decorations when the fungi bloomed and hit me with beautiful lushness. And it was beauty, all things so lovely. The garland trailed around in a soft and gold plush of an explosion, and the fluorescent lights turned everything in the store green, my Snapple was held together without a glass bottle, like I was holding red pink in my hands. I spent like an hour in that place, just touching and trailing over everything. The store manager nearly hauled my ass out on the street before Jake somehow had the wherewithal to pay for my drink and guide my pinwheel eyes out of there. So as much as I would like to reassure Rosalie that we haven't been steered wrong because sweet Rachel's and Rebecca's brother took care of us tonight, I cannot divulge Jake's rogue business venture.

"What does it feel like?"

I went over this with Rose ad nauseam, it's too late to be asking this stuff now. "Come on Rose, I'm taking you to the bathroom to hold your hair so you can throw up," decision made.

Rose looks at me gratefully, it's a little pitiful in a way, and I feel like a total shit for letting her go through with this. So we walk to the bathroom, I hold her shampoo commercial hair while she tries to stick her index finger down her throat. I am not Winona Ryder and this isn't _Heather's_, so I rub her back until she gets the nerve to go through with it by her own hand. I hope tonight is good because the dry heaves were a total bummer as I no longer have a tolerance for vomit and vomiting.

Emmett finally meets us over to my place, having the house to myself for the next week to 10 days affords me late nights such as this one.

"Bella, my hell yeah," Emmett puts his monster paws around me and picks me up by my waist and spins me around. It feels so unbelievably out of this world, astoundingly awe inspiringly awesome, I grip on to his meat hooks and squeal. If I weren't so jacked up right now I might be embarrassed, but the touch and sensation makes me want to stick a straw into Emmett and swallow his bright and goodness and have it shine out of my orifices like fresh squeezed bliss. Emmett gives me a kiss on my cheek.

"Bella, if Rosie wasn't my perfect other half, I would have pressed and squashed until you fit into my peg hole." I look at Emmett trying to figure out his little metaphor. I don't know exactly what Emmett's referring to as his peg hole, but for the sake of my internal argument, I'm going with Emmett being the peg hole.

I love Emmett. I'd never do anything to Rosalie, but at some point I admitted to myself that Emmett was so perfect in his sweet, ursine ways that given an opportunity, I would have to think twice about turning him down. I had almost hoped with the Ecstasy, that I would have gotten an opportunity to get with Emmett, treating the effects of the drug like they do in a made for TV movie or some crap like that and using it as an excuse for my behavior. With Rosalie's change of heart I will make every effort to steer clear of the two of them tonight.

"What's with you Bella?" Emmett asks, lightly grabbing my arms. "You're all glassed over."

I wonder if I can get away with grinding my ladyness on Emmett's thigh? I wonder if Rose would notice and if Emmett would say anything?

"I took some E a little while ago,"

"Oh, so how does it feel?" Emmett looks at me with a guardedly curious expression.

I stop for a moment and all I can think about is that D'Angelo video for How Does It Feel, Renee loved it, which, now that I think about it, was weird that she made a point to show it to me, but the video, and his body and the movement of his hands and the slow pulsing of the music leading up to the crescendo…

Then I am snapped away from my thoughts by Emmett waving his paw in front of my face. "Earth to Hell Yeah?"

"Sorry, Em. Hey, go get Rose and let's get a move on, I really want to dance."

"Where're we going?"

"This party of Jefferson, some type loft party type of thing," I move my hand in some vague gesture to signify the general direction, theme and need to get Rosalie's ass in gear.

Emmett stops in the hallway and is leafing through a Sports Illustrated.

"Emmett, will you please go get your beauty pageant contestant so I don't waste my high watching the streetlight change and trying to rub my lady business over your thigh all night?"

Emmett looks at me a minute trying to work out what I just said before shrugging his shoulders and giving me his flawless smile and his melting wink. Honestly, Rosalie better not fuck with Emmett, he's simply too ideal to hurt. He signals for me to hop on his back so we can go entice Rosalie away from the bathroom and into a cab. And fuck if my little piggyback ride doesn't feel about the best thing ever with my legs wrapped around Emmett's muscled abdomen, me firmly pressed flat against his back and it takes nearly everything within me to not rub my hardened nips all over his back.

And maybe Emmett isn't entirely perfect either, because he keeps running his hands up and down my legs that are wrapped around him.

Enough. I slide off of him and stick my head into the bathroom.

"Rose, if you don't get yourself together in the next two minutes I am going to fellate Emmett in the hallway and I won't feel the least bit sorry about it." And not a minute later Rosalie is out taking Emmett's surprised paw and leading the three of us out to the street to get a cab.

Smartest thing she's ever done.

And when we arrive at this unassuming building I lead us through the entry. We all show our fake ID's and are searched and in my depraved mind / body intertwining, it feels so good to have these hands on me. I push my way past the off duty cop and into the room that is flashing blue and red and rainbow and _pumpity, pumpity, pumpity_, making my skin tingle and my blood feel the prickle of excitement.

"Hey, are you two okay? I'm gonna go in the other room and dance," I yell to Rosalie, she waves me off and I take leave of having to watch her rub Emmett's back and him kissing her temple.

Instead of heading to the chill room, I walk around, marveling at the glowing bodies moving and writhing and the random people who are brushing up against me. It feels like I am disconnected with the natural order of time, things are happening only when I'm observing them, ceasing to exist when I walk away.

Then I spot the line of people. They are all holding punching ball balloons, like the ones Charlie would buy me at the supermarket when I was bitty. But these people are inhaling whatever that tank is dispensing and I want some. I go and stand in the line finally making it up to the guy running the thing.

"I don't have a balloon," I state realizing too late that everyone else in line already has an empty balloon.

"Sorry, sister, you gotta have one," this beautiful, dreadlocked guy tells me, then he gives me such a pretty smile it makes me reach forward and run my fingers over his cheeks.

The tank guy laughs, and I get to see his smile again and it fills me with warmth. He points me towards the door and tells me to buy one from the hostess girl in the yellow dress.

I float my way over to the door.

"Hi, tank guy says you have the balloons?" I say to the girl with the hair and yellow dress.

She gives me a onceover, and smiles so ersatz it makes me instantly wish for something genuine, like a kid's baseball mitt. "Sorry, sweetie, I'm all out," she says with a sneer. I can actually hear the sneer in her voice. What the fuck? Then she gives me the fakest, whitest smile, like her teeth were glowing with a black light, but there is not one near her.

"Oh, Ari, where were you? Did you talk to Edward, what did he say?" Crest white strip girl is asking in a singsong voice.

I turn to see who white strip girl is interrogating and my eyes see a man with balled up wax paper skin. I stand there dumbfounded because all I want to do is reach out my long fingers and touch what his skin must feel like, it has to be a sensation I've never felt before.

Then I hear him, he speaks oh so quietly, and I am not sure I even hear him say it, but I must because I cannot explain it any other way, he says in a gravel and aluminum voice, "Stupid bitch, it's Aro."

White strip girl doesn't hear it, and I try to stifle a slow laugh that's urging its way out my mouth and fail, it tumbles out and Ari / Aro stops to look at me and smiles, because we're both in on the same joke and the ridiculousness of the white strip girl.

"Hello, I'm Aro, and you are?" Ari / Aro is extending his wax paper skin hand towards me. I feel like I'm talking with the Mad Hatter from Alice In Wonderland, with his pale skin and dark hair, and slightly shifty appearance.

"Bee," and I too extend my hand and shake his. His skin feels like marzipan but is really soft. I want to stand there and sculpt it into little shapes of fruit and colored balls and stick it on a butter cream cake.

"Were you looking for something, Bee?" Ari / Aro ask me.

"Yeah, actually I was," wafts out of my mouth. "I was looking for a balloon."

"Well, then, let's see what we can do to wrestle one up for you," and Ari / Aro leads me away from white strip girl who is ready to spit straight razors in my direction. He has his hand on the small of my back and part of me is simply enjoying the sensation while the other part of me is a little creeped out by this guy who looks to be the same age as my dead grandparents. But he leads me back to dreadlocked tank guy and quietly says something to him, and tank guy hands me a balloon which appeared magically from his pocket.

"Bee, it was nice to meet you, I'll see you around."

I may be fucked up and enthralled by the Mad Hatter's appearance but I at least try to have good manners. "Thank you Ari / Aro, and I hope I didn't piss off Crest White Strip girl too much," I say earnestly and he looks at me and laughs. I think he's laughing at me but whatever, I smile at him and then turn to let tank guy fill my balloon, which has kind of chapped off the people who have been standing in line.

Once the balloon has been filled I grab hold of it and go stand against a wall where there is a couple making out. I take the balloon and put it to my lips and inhale a lungful of the gas.

And, oh, God, it's wonderful, I'm floating through waves of tulle and the sound is going _whaup, whaup, whaup,_ in quick succession_. _And then the next thing I know a blond haired guy is helping me up.

"You okay there, baby doll?"

"Yeah," I say, but sound like I'm speaking through tar.

"Well, looky this, Ali, little girl here took at ride on the nitrous express and hung on to her balloon, you got some talent there, baby doll," he says, apparently to me.

"Hey," I say a little slowly, the speech seemingly returned but the E continuing to swim up around me. "Thanks for helping me out, I didn't mean to interrupt you two."

"You're all good," and the dark haired girl gives me a smile and a wink and goes back to intertwining her fingers in the charming Southerner's blond locks.

I do the rest of my balloon, firmly pasting myself up against the wall, and for the few moments where I am floating away from the earth's tether, it is harmony. And I know drugs are for dopes and all the other cold war, Nancy Reagan maxims, but sometimes they are what's needed to keep shit together by seemingly pulling them apart.

I stop myself from thinking about _life_ and decide to get to my original desire and want for going to this party, to dance.

I hit the main floor for a while, the bass and techno-type beats are not making me feel it, so I walk to another room where there's some guy playing drums while another guy is spinning, it's okay, but confusing to me, although the guy playing drums looks like Tom Cruise before he went around the bend, no, this guy looks more like sweet Joel Goodsen.

But, like I said, I was confused and couldn't exactly find my rhythm, like my orbit wasn't set right. I go and get some more water, and slip some gum in my mouth, and make my way to the down-tempo room.

And this is it.

The music is perfect. Hip-hop, soul, word, jazz; I find my sway and groove immediately. And in here, there is the occasional touch on my hip or graze on my skin which feels good, but nothing more than that, I keep dancing by myself.

I feel my body pull, like the needle on a compass orienting to magnetic north. I open my eyes fully and watch as the pull keeps my eyes glued to him. He stands, bending a leg up and leaning up against a wall. I watch as the oscillation of the fan turns back and forth to him and how it blows his hair about, it's almost hypnotizing in the movement of chaos and control.

And I'm moving, still dancing to the music wrapping around me and I'm still watching him. His head is slightly moving to the beats, he's lightly tapping his hands along the wall following the tempo, and his eyes are closed, a slight look of irritation showed by a furrowed brow. I continue to watch as he reaches into his pocket and bend a piece of gum into his mouth. He goes back to the bobbing of his head and the tapping of his hands. He becomes more relaxed but his eyes remain closed.

And I don't know if it's the drugs, or the music or the summer air, or simply a magnetic draw towards him, but I cannot stop myself from moving over to this creature. I suddenly want to touch him, to feel what he is feeling because I know it will feel good to me.

I go over to where he's standing and am almost facing him until I pause. His eyes are closed, he looks content, maybe he's here with someone? Some fairly rational thoughts coming from my E polluted mind, so I push the reality out, why be on drugs if you're plagued with reality? Instead, I go with my want; I want to touch him, I want to feel him, I want to see his eyes. So I take a breath and take hold of his hips and pull him away from the wall.

He opens his eyes and looks at me. And it's like all of those scenes from movies where everything around you fades away and goes in slow motion, we look and feel one another. I feel his skin, his blood coursing through his veins in turn making mine race, my skin is like firecrackers and lightening strikes, I can't tell if it's purely the sensation of the Ecstasy I've ingested or something more, and it doesn't matter either, my compass needle has settled on this creature for tonight. When he looks at me, it completes the journey, I am easy with his gaze, I feel his pulse and it powers my movement.

Touching his skin beneath the hem of his shirt I pull him to the dance floor. I continue my sway but realize I want as much of my body connected to him as possible so I turn my back to him and begin dancing. And, oh, I feel it, I feel his excitement pressed up against me, it makes my skin and my capillaries and my larynx all hum in unison against him. When he runs his hands down my shoulders and arms I feel like I'm going to explode like a rocket launching.

And we dance for who knows how long? I turn around and place my hands up around his neck and feel his hair and I pull my hands down his arms. I lick my bottom lip, needing the moisture to try speech, and wanting to find out his name and be able to say something to him in return. My eyes close momentarily, enjoying the sensation.

I take his shirt and pull him down to my level, I know it's a forward and possessive move, but it elicits no protest so I continue.

"What's your name," I articulate as best as I can, suddenly being consumed with the feeling of my pupils dilating more so by this close proximity and my pulse speeding with the desire to have him run his hands all over my body, instead, I give the firm curve of his ear a lick. And all dogs go to heaven, who knew someone could taste so good? He tastes like pretty, and protective and dear and talented, and strong.

He moves to my ear and breathes out, "Edward," and it gives my shoulders a shudder, in the best kind of way. Then he asks, again in my ear, "Tell me yours?" It all feels so delicious.

Without thinking, I respond. "Mmmm," because my body is still humming, "you can call me Bee." And I look at him, he looks confused, which is not a look I want to cross his striking masculine features, "like sting," and I make a buzzing sound, looping my hand around before landing my fingertip on is arm to make like I'm stinging him.

And he gives a deep throated chuckle, it's like I can see a bell-choir ringing the sound of his amusement. I can't help my smile, I feel it cross my face and reach my eyes.

Then I see Crest white strip girl strut herself toward Edward and pull him away from our moment. I don't care, I continue to dance, me still connected to him, and I hear snippets of her shrill voice and Edward's smooth-like-Barry-White tone.

"…Eddie…Ari… his name is Aro….he thinks it's cute…three of us…some fun together…"

At this point I think white strip girl needs to see the order of things tonight. I mean, if Edward wants to go with her, that's cool, but I still want to stake my claim, I feel the electricity flowing between us, I hope Edward wants to leave with me so I turn myself around, in the process wrapping his arm around my waist. I give white strip girl only the briefest of glances.

"Come on, lover, I thought you said we were leaving?" I take a shot in saying this and I hope, against everything, he wants to play along. And because touching him feels so good I reach up and trail my fingertips down the side of his face and along his right plane of his jaw line. I am lost momentarily in my touch to him.

I pay zero attention to white strip girl, I want to curl myself up into Edward for the night and see if we fit together. Then I hear him speak and inwardly I am complete.

"I'm sorry Tanya, I have previous plans. But I liked Aro, I think he's a good guy, please give him my regards." I watch as Edward respectfully says goodbye, maybe even a little stuffily, but that's not a bad thing. I watch as he removes white strip girl's limp hand from his chest and takes mine and leads me out of the room and the rest of the party.

I am momentarily concerned when we reach the door and he says to me, "You didn't have to do that."

Keeping in mind that I had nothing to lose, I told Edward exactly what I wanted, "I want to leave," I look at him straight on, "I want to leave with you."

I feel him looking at me, taking in my appearance, I suppose. I wait for him to say something , to stop feeling his eyes rake over me, I feel like I might be found out and I don't want tonight to come to an end just yet. The green cast and the buzzing of the light in the hallway is making me unsettled, and unsure of myself.

Finally, he speaks, "You want to walk or take a cab?"

"How long of a walk?"

I don't really want to sit in some possibly smelly cab with street air blowing on me while we speed to wherever we go. There is nothing more exciting than walking the streets of the downtown during the early summer in the wee hours. It's when the city is most honest, not trying to preen and show off for visitors, it just relaxes its big shoulders for those few hours each day. Yeah, I wanna walk and I want to walk with this beautiful creature I have stumbled upon tonight. I am grateful I didn't wear the stilts Rose tried to tie me into and stuck with my flat sandals.

"I don't know, maybe about two miles, we can take a cab, I have money."

Great, he thinks I'm worried about money, I like to walk, but I didn't want to have to walk to Pilsen or some shit, that was all I meant.

"No, a walk sounds good, we can always get a cab along the way if we want," hopefully I have reassured him.

He very gentlemanly so, takes my hand and leads me down the stairs. We reach the street and turn north and start walking. When we get to Wacker Drive we cross to walk along the river.

And our silence is companionable. The air and the city noises and the colors and light all make me calm and relaxed. While I know I should be concerned about leaving a party with a near complete stranger I don't feel that way in the least, my father, the cop, would have been mortified at my actions. Tonight though, I'm trusting my instincts and those instincts are telling me it's right to be with Edward.

It's when we're walking down the river that I stop and want to take Edward's picture. The light off of the Merchandise Mart with a slightly long exposure with Edward along the edge of the frame, I want this picture, even if I never see this guy again, he's part of this moment, something I want to look at again to remember this feeling. I often think this is one of the reasons why Renee got me started with the camera and taking photographs, not only to share the images with others but to have my own, personal reasons and recalls with the images.

"Wait, stop a minute," I ask as I reach into my purse and pull out my ever present Leica. Phil has always indulged me with rather extravagant of gifts.

"Here," I position him along the edge of the railing and then try to get the correct angle of view.

"Do you mind if I take your picture?" I should ask before pushing the shutter.

And he laughs. "You're asking me that now?" I don't respond, I'm a little embarrassed that I didn't think to ask him before spending the time composing the shot.

"Yeah, go ahead," he assents. I pop the flash for fill lighting and fire off a few shots. He has laughter in his eyes, he looks so pure and earnest in his relaxed state, still laughing about me asking his permission. I look through the photos and wish everything I photographed would come out looking this good and honest. I want to crawl into the image and live there.

"Shit," my head pops up and I look at Edward, thinking he is going to remember that he has somewhere or someone else he has to be with. He pulls out a phone.

"Crap," I realize that I left the party making no effort to tell Rosalie or Emmett that I was taking off. I put my camera away and find my phone and text a message saying I would talk to them tomorrow. Rose will be pissed, but Emmett would tell her I need to get laid based on me hitting on Emmett unabashedly. I give Edward a little smile when I'm done. He takes my hand and we continue to walk back to what I'm assuming is his place.

"Your friend going to be okay getting home?" Edward asks me.

"Yeah, she's there with her boyfriend, she'll be cool," no, she'll probably be pissy that I left her but Emmett's good lovin' and Rose's free rein of my home will be enough to get her past her drama.

"Good."

We're standing waiting for six eternities for the light to change so we can cross the street when I can't tolerate it any longer. I need to feel and taste him. I stand on my tippy toes and kiss and lick his neck. Ugh, I want more, more, more.

"Come on, we're not far," he thankfully tells me.

We cross and continue to walk a ways, I am almost wishing we would have taken a cab simply to be to his place already.

"Bee?" he asks.

"Yeah, baby?" I reply, then realize that may be too intimate of an endearment.

"We're almost to my place, are you sure you want to come up with me?"

And he's watching for a look of fear or flight, I offer neither. I'm looking at him and I know this is right, and this is exactly what I want to do right now. I want to feel him inside of me, I want to kiss that bottom lip and run my fingers down his chest and take his cock in my hand.

I take his wrists, oh, the sensation of touch is still so pleasurable.

"You're not like, Patrick Bateman, are you?" I ask him, with a small amount of teasing in my tone. "I mean, am I like your first? Will I be your first victim but right now you're having second thoughts about carving me up?" I don't know why I'm saying this, I utterly loathed _American Psycho_, I was so frightened I nearly slept with my bedroom lights on for weeks.

I distract myself instead with running my fingernails back and forth on the inside of Edward's wrist, it calms me. I have started to freak myself out a little. I am absolutely high and have more or less propositioned an utter stranger tonight, he could be some total scary asshole. While I may have sounded teasing to him, I hope my apprehension is appeased, either by a second thought by me or a second thought by Edward.

"Hey, hey, hey," he takes my hands between his. His hands are lovely, long fingers, perfectly shaped, beautiful nail beds, his skin is not rough. "You asked me to leave with you. Remember? I'm asking you because I want you to have a choice, not to feel like this went too far or something."

And that's it, that tipped the scale in Edward's favor. He gave me an out. Oh, he's so beautiful, I can feel his goodness pulsating though his body when I bring my hand up and cup his cheek, looking at him. I think I see relief in his eyes. And embarrassingly enough, I pant the one thought currently running through my brain.

"I can't wait to wait to feel you." I want to giggle, because apparently I said the magic words. He grabs my hand but I know he'd rather just throw me over his shoulder and run back to his home. It's so feral I wonder if he has vestiges of a tail to go with his fur covered tunic.

We make it to his building, or wherever he's staying, it's one of the swankiest addresses off the Magnificent Mile, it just goes with his beauty. I don't know exactly how I feel about this and put it in my mind to contemplate later. We enter the elevator and I keep my mouth shut while he pushes the button for the 67th floor.

"I'm Edward Cullen," he says to me, I believe to make me feel more at ease. I wonder if Cullen is a common name in Chicago since it seems to be all over the place.

I need to introduce myself in kind, but would rather avoid the name thing and just touch him. I move over, closer to him, and am tempted to just kiss him but restrain myself. While I know what I should do, I still want to watch my back. This guy might not be a raping cannibal, but what if he's some creepy stalker?

"I'm Bee Dwyer."

I think about this. Is this what I want to say to this guy? Okay, whatever, it's one night, not a lifetime. Besides, he's probably one of those guys who sneaks away in the morning. But then again, he's invited me back to his place, where would he sneak off to? I should just be straight with him.

I start to tell him who I am but instead another thought flits across my mind and spews out of my mouth without a second moment to what I was saying. "What was with the Crest white strip girl? I mean, am I getting you in trouble?"

Fuck, that's not my issue, why did I just ask that question? If he gets in trouble maybe white strip girl shouldn't have such an uppity stick up her ass.

"She was a brief past thing, you haven't caused any trouble," he answers. Really, like he's going to say, '_Oh, she's my girlfriend, but I just decided to fuck around on her tonight and bam, you're it_.'

I think about this for the interminably long elevator ride and exit and follow him to his door. He motions for me to enter ahead of him, then flicks on the lights, and crap, this place is ridiculous. I keep my mouth closed and continue to walk through the place until I get to the living room. Whatever this guy is, it cannot be above board. Which kind of starts to make sense. Like if they make a movie of his life, he had covered soap dishes spilling out with coke, heroin frozen as ice cubes in the freezer, taped underneath his desk are 12 different types of pills to make you feel nothing but good, and a penthouse grow up of weed too, just for good measure. Okay, I need to pull back, I'm getting myself off track. But again, I can't stop my mouth, sadly.

"Are you kidding me with this?" This is ridiculous, I thought Oprah lived like on 50 floors of this place. "This is your place?" Crap, maybe he lives with his parents and I need to keep my voice down.

"It was my parent's, it's mine now," is all he answers.

"What, did they relocate to something smaller, like Versailles?" I tease.

He walks towards me and wraps his arms around my waist. Ahhh, it's like those arms were meant for my waist at this moment. He leans down and I think he's going to kiss me but stops and looks at me, pausing, I guess, waiting for me to grant him permission? I slightly lean to him in affirmation. I feel like I'm waiting for something I never knew I wanted. I butterfly my arms out and raise them above my head, against the glass of his windows. He takes my wrists in his hand and grounds me to him, keeping me secured in the moment with him. It's heaven and I can't help but hum my approval to him.

"I like the greetings here in Le Cullen Castle."

And to compound things, he unleashes his tongue to my neck and ear. I don't want to embarrass myself by grinding against him, but it's becoming increasingly more difficult not to. I restrain myself by stroking his scalp, pulling his hair and wondering what the fuck is going on.

"So messy," I wonder if he fucked someone else before he went to that party. "I was afraid you would have had pounds of shit in it, but no, this mess is all natural," I state after my tactile observation of his hair.

"Cowlicks," is said against my neck. Mmm, mmmm, mmmm, I briefly wonder if I temporarily lost power of speech with his lips and tongue along my neck. Ugh, then he presses me against the glass and I know that soon the heat of my body will return this glass to liquid then flow back down to sand. I feel his hand leave my side and return to my ass then I realize he wants to pick me up, I wantonly wrap my arms and legs around him, leaving him to take us both to what I assume to be his bedroom. He so very gently, sets me down on his bed.

And I can't wait. I want it all, now. I move forward and feel my way along his waistband of his soft, khaki pants, then I want to get closer to where I need to be. I slip my fingers underneath and feel along there too, I feel the hair from his navel and down. But I stop myself and pull him closer so I can unbutton the pants and slowly pull that zipper down. Click-pop-click-pop-click-pop of the zipper, I look up at Edward and he is staring at me with so much intensity, waiting for me to release him from his pants. I know this will consume me, flames licking the sides of my body, but I don't care either way, because I want this guy named Edward, inside of me. I want to feel him rub his tip up and down my slit, to tease my clit with both his finger and thumb and with the head of his cock. I want to feel that first entrance into me, where I have to wait until I can fully accept him, then I want to feel the initial, clumsy movements of two strangers, the gradual buildup, finding a rhythm, leading up to the frenzied sliding and thrusting in and out of me, having me meet him and his thrusts.

Thankfully, he has removed, his shoes and socks and pants, kicking them away, and there he stood there in a pair of blue oxford cloth boxers. I totally had pictured him in boxer briefs, short or long, but here he is in lawyer underwear.

"I didn't picture you as a boxer boy," I have to tease him, even in the heat of right now. "Quite the preppy," and oh, I have to put my lips to his body again. I give him kisses down along the most glorious trail of hair ever, from his navel on down, but I stop myself, I need some reassurance. Not many guys would turn down having their dick in your mouth, but not all guys kiss, or stop in the middle to kiss, or kiss after they've fucked you. And while I'm not trying to make this something it's not, it doesn't stop me from still wanting what I want.

So I stand up, dragging my body against his and start to kiss him. And I know he doesn't want to do this, it's like he's confused, trying to work out why his dick isn't in my mouth or sheathed in a condom entering me. But I have to kiss him. And our tongues meet and dance together, if I didn't crave his physical contact more, I would want to kiss him for days at a time. But, my body and my altered outlook are focused on something other than our mouths. I turn him around and lightly push him to his bed.

My eyes are fixed on his, he's confused how he ended up on the bed, but watches my every move, and my eyes are fixed on the prize, I look at him with intent and coveting, I remove my clothes and stand there and let him apprise me, and maybe I'm standing here and letting him take in my form, for some sort of acceptance. But with my continued high, my eagerness, I am emboldened by his stare. When he puts his hands on my hips and pulls me to him, I am quivering and pulsing by his touches, there is a current between us.

"Edward," I drawled out, I wanted to pleasure in every bit of the elocution of his name. "Baby, get a condom, I told you I couldn't wait to feel you inside of me." And as trite and porny as it sounded, it's so fucking true, I wanted him inside of me, to feel him against my wetted folds, to tease me, to feel him entering me so slowly, waiting until we begin this chance union, and I wanted it all now. The Ecstasy has pushed the boundaries of my id, and I welcomed the escape of it all.

Edward reached behind him and pulled out the foil like package and hands it to me, I look at it, seeing the gold packaging and can't contain a little laugh, I wonder at who I've stumbled upon tonight, I feel as though too much has been bestowed upon me; beauty, brains, compassion, charisma; why me? Then I realize, I laughed when he handed me a condom, and that is the worst thing you can do to a man in this situation, I look at him and I see the flit of abject fear across his features, I need to correct this, posthaste.

"My night keeps getting better and better," and I hold up the gold foil package and wag it in restrained delight, I am rewarded with a crooked twitch of his mouth by my reassurance.

"Here, let me get Brooks Brothers off of you," he lifts up so I can remove the blue oxford cloth, and he's watching me, being propped by his elbows. And to see him there, erect and pale, almost glowing by the moonlight coming in through the windows, I know this is where I'm supposed to be.

I reach behind me and unhook my bra and then move my hands down my body, stopping to touch my breasts, I cannot stop the need to pinch my nipples, to a send the thrill of the stimulation to run through my body, one last self stimulation before I have him enter me, I cannot help the sound that emanates from my mouth. I proceed to pull off my bikinis and settle onto his thighs.

And I have to warn him, and make up for my chuckle from moments before, I stroke his ego while offering him the truth.

"You're pretty big, Edward, I'm kinda small," I see him taking in my words. "I'm gonna have to take it slow at first."

He reassures me by telling me he'll be gentle, my body wants everything, now. I position myself over Edward and gathering my wetness, I circle my clit, then push one, then more fingers inside of me to prepare myself for him. Ooh, and it feels so good, more sounds are involuntarily released by me, and I take my fingers and rub them along Edward's lips, marking him with me.

"Whew, that was hot," because it was. I cannot stop myself from kissing him before reaching behind me and joining Edward and I together.

"That's it, baby, feel me," Edward says, massaging my shoulders, moving down to my breasts and pinches my nipples like I had done to myself, before.

"Uhhh," is breathed out by my mouth, I ask him to wait until we fit. I begin to move atop him, slowly, I move up and down him, Edward takes my hips to steady my pace, and I continue the overload to my senses, bending forward to lick his nipples. And we both reach a point of so much, seeing the tape stretched across the finish line.

"Baby, are you close?"

"So close," and I wet my finger and take up circling my clit again and we continue moving. Edward is touching my body and it all has fallen into place. Our movements, our rhythm, our cadence, I speed up and Edward matches me then watches me as I reach the pinnacle, voicing my found pleasure. Edward follows after me and we finish in a perspiration desperate exhaustion.

"Ooof, fuck," is all I can manage to say as I roll off of him. I realize that he held off his climax until I had mine. Edward perches himself over me and kisses me.

"Oh, baby, that was so good," I wonder when I started talking like a cheesy porno. Maybe I should consult my SAT list of words and try to be better spoken next time.

"Yeah," is all he replies, apparently we are both have lost the ability to be verbally expressive.

"You know, sex with a relative stranger is usually sort of awkward, it wasn't with you," I tell him. He mmm mmm's in reply to me and takes my and begins stroking it. Such a tender action. We stay like this for a bit until I realize I would like a shower, after that party, I feel like a film has settled onto my skin.

"Edward," I inquire, "do you mind if I take a shower? I kind of want to wash that party off of me." And I know this is a bold thing to do, he could simply ask me to leave and take a shower at my own home. Which would be fine, I suppose, I mean, this could just be the norm for him, bring a strange girl home, fuck her, quite satisfyingly so, then politely ask her to collect her belongings and leave. But again, I am emboldened by the bit of E running through my body and figure I have nothing to lose, either way. To my surprise he answers without hesitation.

"Yeah, sure, the bathroom is through that door, there's clean towels in the closet."

I get up and slip his t-shirt on and go to his bathroom and am baffled by the near room sized glass encasement he calls a shower. Fortunately he comes in to give me a hand and I invite him to shower with me. And here I can see the perfection that is his body as we wash one another. His lean and lanky appearance is deceiving, because he is a perfect balance of muscles and chiseled angles and man-pretty, which makes him soft and enticing to the touch.

We get out and dry ourselves and I don't want this, this evening's experiences and time spent with Edward, to end but decide I'm tired of being high, I decide to push the envelope again.

"Um, Edward, I'm kind of tired of tripping my ass off, can we go get something to eat, or can I make us something?"

"Yeah, I have stuff in the fridge, we can make something together," I am impressed that he has food in his refrigerator.

Then he hands me a t-shirt that says, _My boy hit a homerun today!, _I roll my eyes at his wry wit.

"Real subtle, Cullen," handing me a pair of his fresh boxers, he shrugs his shoulders and we go to feed ourselves.

From that night on, our summer was spent together.

* * *

_This is where it gets tricky_, I think to myself. I have spent the whole summer lying to Edward about _me_, and I feel horrible about it, and for all the illegal substances I've done in my life, Edward has been the most addicting. I would lie, cheat, steal, to remain even just near him, to get another _taste_ of him. And even though I want nothing more than to remain with him, I have spent the summer lying to him, and it has torn me apart, and I fear things will get increasingly difficult going forward.

Yesterday I paid zero attention to the rote orientation. Tryouts for this or that, fund raising and volunteering, a new teacher or two. Rose told me Miss Tanner is now pregnant and unmarried. Seriously, like Miss Tanner couldn't have figured out that it was the most basic thing not to get pregnant, being a single woman and teaching in a Catholic high school. Rose said the new teacher's some young guy that Lauren and Jessica will spend far too much time spray tanning and plumping lipstick applying, trying to get his attention. I laughed. Rose's acerbic wit without doubt being spot-on.

I took most of this first day trying to figure out how I was going to come clean with Edward. Spending the summer only being vague and evasive when it came to defining anything between us and about me had been exhausting, but I knew I was afraid he would leave, and I couldn't handle it. Edward filled an empty I never knew was present.

I know he started a job yesterday, meeting up last night with him for a few hours was calming and certainly satiating, it set my resolve to come clean about me, planning to share this on Friday night. If it goes poorly, I will at least have school to occupy much of my time.

With this on my mind, I walk into my final class of the day, honors English, listening to Jessica drone on about her bougie and not even close to the lake, Lake Geneva house and her 4th of July party, which she inflicts on everyone, every year. I had called her with an innocuous excuse for not attending, preferring to spend the 4th with Edward and his tongue, to say I traded up on that one would be an understatement.

I take my seat in the back, I'll let Rose and Jessica and Lauren fight it out for Most Likely To… I can answer questions and take tests just as well from the solitude of the back row.

Then I hear it. His voice. Introducing himself.

How did this happen? What the shit do I do?

Recovering myself, I figure the best thing to do is be nonchalant, it's the only thing I can do. Fuck, I hope he has the ability to keep his shit in check.

And now we get to the attendance. This agony is all mine. He ticks down the line of my fellow classmates. I practice some calming, breathing techniques Renee once taught me when she was on a weed respite. He's just called Jessica Stanley, her over-eager and eager to please, flappy-hand will only take but one moment.

"Isabella Swan?"

Deep breath.

"Here," I answer, too chicken to meet his eyes at first. I am every sort of horrible there is. I've ruined this man before he has even had a chance. I want to stab my eyes out so as to make myself hideous and unworthy to view him, but my pen continues to rest on my lip and I continue speaking.

"Uh, Mr. Masen, I go by Bella."

* * *

**A/N** There's this scene in the movie, _Heathers_, if anyone recalls, where Winona Ryder sharpens her fingernail before helping (I believe it's) Shannon Dougherty vomit up her lunch, totally disgusting, but humorous nonetheless. Sadly, I as unable to find a clip of this scene.

I did put a link on my profile to D'Angelo's video, _How Does It Feel_? I know he's had his issues and all, but it's still a good song.

Pilsen is a neighborhood in Chicago.

Lake Geneva, WI, is a resort-type town across the Illinois – Wisconsin border where many Chicagoland people have weekend houses.


End file.
